


eight years of you and me

by punkrockbadger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, growing up fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockbadger/pseuds/punkrockbadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new baby smells, James reasons, but Uncle George has warned him that all babies do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eight years of you and me

[2006]

The new baby smells, James reasons, but Uncle George has warned him that all babies do.

“It’s the nappies.” Uncle George had said, when Mum and Dad had rushed off to the hospital a day before. “They stink.”

James had nodded intently, gathering as much information as he could, but this is nothing he could have expected.

“What’s his name?” James asks, thumb tucked securely in the corner of his mouth.

“Remus Rubeus.” Dad says, holding a baby with the same spiky hair that he shares with James. “After two of the bravest men I’ve known.”

“Daddy knows lots of brave men.” James points out, and the small room is filled with laughter.

* * *

[2007]

“Remus! Rosie!” James calls as he runs, scrunching up his nose as the two toddlers babble wildly at him as they try vainly to keep up with him. “Hurry up!”

“Babies can’t run that fast, Jamie.” Aunt Hermione chuckles, ruffling his hair. James hugs her leg, an attempt to extend an apology for nearly bowling Rosie over half an hour before, and gives the babies time to catch up before running again.

Remus giggles, clapping his hands before planting them squarely on James’ stomach a little too hard, and James sits down hard, wincing.

“I think I’m dead.” He whines, squeezing his eyes shut. Aunt Hermione, as always, pays the theatrics no mind, and Rose unsteadily makes her way to the boys before falling square on James’ left arm. “Yup. Dead.”

Rose coos at him, grabbing his nose between her thumb and index finger, and Remus tickles James’ tummy until he laughs and swats his hands away.

Remus is the best brother, James says at dinner, and Mum and Dad look more than just a little pleased.

* * *

[2008]

“You have a little sister, boys.” Grandpa Arthur says, and James nods because he is old hat at this. He remembers a little bit of when Remus was born, remembers that he’d been dropped off at Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione’s rather than the Burrow, but Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione have little baby Hugo, who smells more than Remus ever did, right now and don’t need two more crowding up everything. “They named her Lily.”

“Can we see?” Remus asks impatiently, nearly bouncing up and down. James is the one to remember to hold his hand when they step into the fireplace, because Remus gets confused with some letter sounds still, and they tumble into the entrance hall of St. Mungo’s together, breathless and laughing wildly.

James and Remus run into the room hand and hand still, and lean over the railing of the bed to see the little baby with tufts of red hair, wrapped in an obscenely pink blanket, that Mum has in her arms.

“Do you want to hold her, boys?” Dad asks, looking more tired than James has ever seen him, and Remus nods eagerly, holding his arms out, and James layers his over Remus' so that Mum can put the baby down between them. James and Remus practically melt into each other, the sides of their foreheads pressed together as they look down at their little sister.

“Lil smells.” Remus says, giggling, and the baby opens eyes just as green as Remus' before cooing back at him. “Yes you do. You know it.”

James chuckles and tries his best to keep them close. He has two people to protect now, not just one, and that means he’s the most important, other than the baby. Remus smiles up at James and he nods, heart full to bursting with happiness, and he joins in the laughter when Lily sticks her tongue out at him.

* * *

[2009]

Teddy is eleven now, dreaming of freedom, and his hair is bright blue as he waves to James and Remus from the train compartment. Ted is leaning halfway out the window, grinning madly, and James is surer than he ever has been of anything that his big brother will be a Gryffindor. He seems built for red and gold, just like James knows Remus and Lily are, but James is far less sure of himself than they are.

Remus is brash and carelessly strong, holding James’ hand so tight that his knuckles are practically popping out while Teddy’s blue hair becomes nothing but a spot of color in the distance, and James is not. James is just James, soft and malleable, and he doesn’t know if he will fit anywhere when the world is done with him.

“Ted’s gonna be back soon.” Remus says, calm as always, and grabs Dad’s hand in his free one.

“Yeah.” James says, rubbing frantically at his eyes with the back of his hand. He doesn’t know why it feels like the end of something, but it takes root in his chest, thumping wildly like a second heartbeat.

Remus squeezes his hand, giving him a toothy grin when James gathers up enough strength to look over, and sticks out his tongue to make James laugh.

James decides, at that moment, that loving Remus is much more important than missing Teddy, and loves Remus all the more for it.

* * *

[2010]

James huddles closer to Teddy and Victoire, excited to finally be able to stay up to midnight with the adults, until he catches sight of a small figure in green footie pajamas decorated with polar bears standing in the shadow of the grandfather clock. Remus is sucking his thumb, as he nearly always seems to be doing, and is watching the handles of the clock as if expecting them to move. He’s staring at Grandma Weasley’s clock, though, specifically at the way Uncle George’s clock hand is really two clock hands nearly melted together, and turns to James when James creeps up on him.

“S’alright, Remy. Won’t let ‘em make you go back.” Remus frowns, like he always does when people call him Remy, but settles into James’ lap regardless as soon as James sits down on the carpeted floor. He settles his head into the space between James’ neck and shoulder, and James presses a kiss to his brother’s temple when the adults all yell that it’s midnight, remembering that they said you should give kisses to the people you want by your side for the next year. “Happy New Year, Remus.”

Remus grumbles in his sleep, always moving fingers balling up a section of James’ shirt in his hand, and James studiously ignores the patch of drool on his shoulder when Mum and Dad make their way to him, obviously expecting him to be asleep.

“Happy New Year.” James says, grinning as he runs a hand through his little brother's hair. “Remus couldn’t wait on the fun.”

“I can tell.” Mum smiles, shaking her head, and carefully lifts Remus off of James, leaving Dad to take James’ hand. “All my boys, such sweethearts.”

Dad winks and James tries his best to copy the action and Mum rolls her eyes.

“James Sirius Potter, you’re going to be quite the heartbreaker when you grow up.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“Should have tape then.” James remarks, nodding. “To fix ‘em after.”

“Good thinking, kid.” Dad grins. “Tape. Lots of it.”

James takes to carrying rolls of tape in his pockets, and everyone else pretends not to notice.

* * *

[2011]

“I’m five.” Remus says, nearly breathless, when he wrestles James awake at six in the morning. “Five, Jamie. Five!”

“Five.” James agrees, shaking his head to clear it before nodding. “You’re a big kid, Remus.”

“Yeah!” Remus crows, jumping up and down on James’ bed. “Five means big!”

“Almost as big as me.” James says, proudly, because he knows age is one thing Remus can never beat him at. They are brothers, at the end of the day, and competition is how they thrive. “But you’ve gotta be eight to be as big as me and I’ll be eleven then.”

“Eleven.” Remus repeats, turning the number into something worth revering. “That’s when you’ll go away, huh?”

“Yeah.” James nods. “That’s when I’ll go off to Hogwarts.”

“If I don’t get old, then you don’t get old, right?” Remus asks, frowning in frustration. “Then you can’t ever ever be eleven.”

Remus vehemently insists he is four to everyone who wishes him happy birthday for the rest of the day, growling at Uncle Ron when he offered an explanation of why that was impossible, and James smiles just a little, because he has the best brother ever.

* * *

[2012]

“Jamie!” Lily calls, skipping to her brothers, who are currently knee deep in mud and pond water. “I wanna play!”

“Get in then!” James calls back, grinning as a well aimed ball of dirt hits Remus square in the face. “Don’t be shy!”

“You’ll never get me again!” Remus' eyes are glowing as he tackles James, forcing his head under the water for just long enough to scare him, and Lily screeches for Mum, because “Remus' gonna die James”.

By the time Mum makes it down the hill to the pond, James and Remus are both covered in mud and soaking wet, their hair staying flat for once in their lives, and smile apologetically while Remus blurts out that they were playing Harry Potter and Voldemort and that it was James’ turn to be evil. Mum sighs and says something about how they wouldn’t play that game if they knew what was good for them, but they all know it’s just empty at this point, so neither of the boys reacts.

James shrugs and says he is evil enough without needing to pretend to be Voldemort, and shoves Remus underwater right in front of Mum, not caring about any punishment. Remus sputters indignantly before launching himself at James, and they are still rolling around in the water when Dad comes home from work a few hours later.

“Boys…” He sighs, dropping his briefcase a little ways up the hill before shedding the weird outer robes he has to wear as a Head Auror. “You can’t play Harry Potter and Voldemort without Harry Potter.”

James cheers wildly until Dad reaches in and grabs a handful of mud before rubbing it in James’ face.

* * *

[2013]

“Teams!” Lucy hollers, as the cousins all group up for the annual Weasley-Potter-Delacour Sleepover. James and Dad’s birthdays are thankfully two days in a row, so everyone just comes down once and stays the night out back in the field behind the Burrow. Thankfully, that means both the kids and adults have nearly full teams for Quidditch. “I want Rox for beater!”

“Remus for Beater.” James pipes up, and everyone shrugs because James always picks Remus first no matter what. Remus runs to James’ side, overeager as always, and can barely stop himself from bouncing up and down at the prospect of being allowed on a broom.

The rest of the cousins are equally divided until it is a neat six versus six match and the Potter boys bring it home as always.

“Hey, Luce, want a hanky?” Remus calls, making a particularly rude hand gesture at Lucy while Uncle Percy is looking the other way.

“Not from you, Potter.” She frowns, crossing her arms, and James has the good sense to tackle Remus before an extremely well aimed set of Bat Bogeys make their way to the place where his head was merely seconds before.

* * *

[2014]

Two sweaty foreheads, covered by equally dark, unruly bangs, are pressed together. It's late on a muggy summer night and two growing boys are huddled under a too small dark blue comforter whimsically patterned with clouds and sailboats.

“Will things be different now?” Remus asks.

At eight, he is still all long arms and legs, knobbly knees and elbows unusually prominent just as his father’s had been. He laces his fingers through his brother’s, keeping his breathing soft and silent to avoid anyone noticing that there are two bodies in James’ bed.

“No.” James replies.

At eleven, he is raring to go, to discover himself on a larger stage, all carefully constructed confidence and bravado. September first is tomorrow, and tomorrow is the first day of the rest of his life, as Uncle Ron is prone to saying when fits of nostalgia take him. As summer comes to an close, James grows restless, just as their father does.

“Never?” Remus asks.

Remus has always been the strong one of the two, though he hardly ever looks it, and a closer look reveals that he is holding James’ hand, that the one shaking like a leaf is the older brother rather than the younger.

“Never.” James replies.

His voice strains for some semblance of normalcy as he tries his best to hold on to a slipping facade. James' fingers curl tighter into his brother's as his forehead grows slicker with sweat, from a combination of overthinking situations, as he has always been prone to doing, and a habit of worrying too much over people that don’t need to be worried over.

“I’ll write every day.” Remus promises.

“I’ll write back.” James mutters, relaxing slightly. “Every single letter, I’ll answer, I promise.”

“Don’t just tell me.” Remus untangles his fingers from his brother’s, instead wrapping his arms around him. “Show me, right?”

“Right.” Remus slides out of bed as James’ eyes slide shut, quietly stealing down the hallway to an obnoxiously orange room plastered with red and gold hangings and Quidditch pictures. It’s far louder than James’, which is a sedate light blue with a ridiculous sailboat theme that he’d never deviated from, but Remus has always enjoyed loud. James, as a distinct counterpoint, has always been awkward around noise and high energy activities.

So Remus lies awake, wondering and worrying about that brother of his, and two doors down, James rolls onto his back and does the same.

The next morning, James boards a train and doesn’t look back.


End file.
